Slow Burn
by rainypromise
Summary: An intense question that grew to become an intense night between Jacob and Bella.


Twilight Fanfiction

**SLOW BURN**

**A Twilight Fanfiction**

"Do you want me?"

Strange how a whisper in the darkness can sound so loud, is it because the usual senses are deprive that hearing becomes much more prominent? To make up for what the eyes can't see?

But his senses has a knack for tricking him when it comes to her which is bad, because in his wolf form or not, his senses are sharper, stronger than normal and it overwhelms his logical side.

Her scent beckons along the dim lighting, invisible fingers that trails his skin, raising the fine hairs on his nape. Her heartbeat, a chaotic drumming that suits the anxiousness that darkens her eyes, calls out to him.

How can she ask that still?

Doesn't she know what it does to him whenever she stands too close, too trusting as she brushes her hand against his? Whenever she tilts her head as she talks to him, the way his mouth dries up and the tip of his fingers tremble?

Even now, even as she stands almost a foot away, he feels the slow burn that starts to climb up his spine, his skin heating up, tightening at the very sound of her breath.

He knows he can never find the right words so he steps closer, with each step he hears her breath quickening, their eyes still on each other.

Gently, ever so gently he presses his lips against hers in a touch so soft it is barely there. He kisses her once, twice, only their lips touching before he lifts his hands to her shoulders that trembles when he swipes his palms down the length of her arms to clutch at her wrists.

"Jacob." She sighs softly against his lips, anxious, nervous, a little bit afraid.

He kisses her again, stronger this time but still very gentle, giving her the merest glimpse of what is churning inside him.

His hands are at the curve of her hips now, and with agonizing slowness, his palms slide up against her back and around her before—within seconds—his mouth comes alive on hers.

Her arms grip his waist, a pathetic attempt to stay standing, stay sane when his mouth crushes hers, his hands plastering her body to his, his fingers digging into her skin, restless and impatient.

There ragged breathes mingling, their skins vibrating with the unvoiced urging that screams at them, _moremoremoremoremore._

She gasps against the heat that eats at her from the inside, the outside, smothering her until she struggles to breathe.

The air around them starts to boil, swirl and throb.

Clothes are lost somewhere along the insanity and the overflowing of sensations that he bombards her with. She is helpless in the onslaught of sensation that is strangely familiar but different all the same.

The bed embraces them like a soft flimsy cloud.

She bit down on her bottom lip when his scalding skin touches hers. Sometimes moving, inching across her skin as if he is trying to taste, _feel_ every inch of it, his long, beautiful hair splays across her pale skin like slashes of ink.

As if trying to burn her skin with his, to mark her as his.

He takes his time, slow and delicate and sweet before stealing her breath away when his movements quicken, his hands impatient, his eyes fills with the kind of darkness that states; _mine_.

He keeps his eyes on hers as he sweeps down, touches her skin, torturing her with the slow heat of desire, the sharp edges of lust, the trickling sweetness of love.

Her eyes stays on his as he press his mouth on her stomach, his lips moving, forming her name, his breath moist and hot scalding her restless. She watches him press his fingers at the swell of her hips, feeling them grip her flesh, seeing the different color of their skin presses together, her breath shudders with the sight, torn between crying with frustration or melting in a liquid pool of heat onto the bed.

Quick. Slow. Quick, quick, slow, like a mysterious dance that she doesn't know the steps to, he leads her on and traps her with his body. She arches her back and let out a strangled scream when he crawls above her, intentionally not touching her but with the edges of his hair as it spills over his broad shoulders, tickling, taunting her overwhelmed skin. He presses his callous palm on every inch of her skin as he follows every hill and dip of her body sometimes stopping to press his mouth lazily, heatedly, growling her name against her skin. Sometimes stopping to press the angles of his cheek, listening to the frantic beat of her heart.

He continues like that, teasing her with his body, touching but not touching, giving her a taste but only a little, easing back when she rears up to wrap herself around him, a chuckle trembling low in his throat.

When she turns angrily at him, away from him, he silences her with a kiss and starts all over again, capturing her, using her own wants and needs against herself.

"Jacob." She wraps her pale arms around his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his shoulder length hair, nails digging into the ropes of muscle on his back.

She is on fire, everything is burning, her eyes, her throat, her skin and he is her salvation whose touch sooths the fire but strengthens the burn. She wonders how long she'll last until she burns into ashes.

She is deaf and blind to everything but him and when he raises himself—his mouth sliding up to her ear—she digs her nail deeper into his back at the vibration of his voice against her chest.

"Bella." He whispers slowly, lengthening the syllables of her name. "Do you want me?"

"Yes. Yes." She whispered hurriedly without doubt, without hesitation. "I want you, Jacob."

He grazed her earlobes with his teeth before bringing their faces close, his endless dark eyes gazing into hers, glazed with tears and desire. "Then take me. Bella. Take me."

3

Slow Burn 


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